


Mirrors

by neaf



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Barebacking, First Time, M/M, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:57:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neaf/pseuds/neaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darren and Chris rehearse for a dance scene for the third season, and things escalate all too quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Never Knew

**Author's Note:**

> The Zach that Chris refers to is _Glee_ choreographer, Zach Woodlee.
> 
> Gene Kelly, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers are famous silver screen dancers and actors.
> 
> The song Chris and Darren are dancing to is a (sadly nonexistent) Klaine duet cover of _Set Fire to the Rain_ by Adele.

With the fall came a wave of heat that nobody had expected in summmer’s wake. The city was still uncharacteristically warm, and Chris found himself abandoning his favoured hat and scarf the moment he reached the dance studio, draping them over a chair in the corner with his bag and glancing around the mirrored walls. It looked like little more than a converted warehouse, but there was a kind of weathered beauty in it, all the same. He loved and despised this place in equal measure, about as much as he loved and despised Zach for torturing him with beautiful and impossible choreography.  
  
His glance landed on the single figure spinning in the middle of the room. Darren was side-stepping and sliding in a familiar pattern, his cargo shorts slung low on his hips and his t-shirt sweat-damp and clinging to all the right angles of his body. Chris tilted his head for a moment, enjoying the view, before he wandered over.  
  
“Chris!” Darren stopped abruptly when he spotted his co-star. “You - look hungover?”  
  
Chris peered at him from behind blue-rimmed sunglasses. “You’re very astute,” he replied dryly, sipping at his water bottle.  
  
Darren grinned. “We have to get the timing down, they moved the filming up to tomorrow.”  
  
Chris’s brow shot up and he nearly choked. “Tomorrow?”  
  
With a shrug, Darren spun on the spot, gliding in a diagonal line and slipping back into the choreography again. “I think I have most of it down,” with another step and turn, he wound up by Chris’s side. “But I figured you’d want to go over it.”  
  
Chris nodded as he peeled off his sunglasses, amusement shining in his eyes. Darren was always a little giddy and breathless when he was dancing, just from the joy of it all. And Chris never got tired of watching.  
  
 _Doing_ , on the other hand, was completely exhausting - especially in the pressing heat. They ran through the basic choreography twice before Chris stopped for more water, feeling the sweat clinging at the back of his neck. His lungs burned, trying to draw oxygen from air that felt like a lot like breathing soup.  
  
He'd had years to adjust to the _Single Ladies_ routine, and now found a kind of familiar comfort in doing it - but this was completely different. This was a new way of moving that his body hadn’t caught onto yet - it was old-school, silver screen duet dancing like he’d never danced before.   
  
It looked incredible, that much he knew from watching Zach during the run-through, and Chris had fallen in love with the scene the moment he’d read it. He knew the imagery would be stunning, and as tiring as the night shoot would be, a huge part of him was looking forward to dancing on the street set, weaving in and out of parked cars with Darren in the rain.  
  
But right now, he was melting slowly in a warehouse in LA. He didn’t know whether it was the hangover or the heat, but he couldn’t get his body around the steps and into the sound.  
  
He slumped a little, pressing his back to the cool glass of the mirrored wall and twitching at the tickle of sweat along his hairline. “Dammit,” he sighed in frustration.   
  
Darren leaned in next to him, watching his profile with a sympathetic smile as he sipped at his own bottle of water. “What’s wrong? You’re miles ahead of me, you’re doing amazing,”   
  
Chris rolled his head to the side, glaring at his friend for the lie.  
  
“What?” Darren laughed. “You are.”  
  
“Uh-huh,” Chris agreed in a tone that said he didn’t agree at all, and rolled his eyes skyward.  
  
“What’s not working for you?” Darren asked, bumping his fist playfully against the glass and drawing patterns with the moisture his hands left.  
  
“All of it,” Chris sighed. “Not - the routine is great. I just can’t get it to _feel_ right.”  
  
“You’re thinking too much,” Darren offered.   
  
Chris glanced sideways at him, and couldn’t help but watch a bead of sweat slide along Darren’s jawline and down his throat.  
  
“You’re stuck in your head,” Darren gestured to the open space around them. “You keep thinking before you move. Just - let go, see what your body does.”  
  
Chris swallowed. Darren was right, he was overthinking, but the damp patches blooming on Darren shirt and the way it plastered down against the muscles of his stomach was rapidly becoming very, very distracting and it was a little hard not to overthink to keep his mind from noticing and his eyes from staring and oh god, he was staring right now, wasn’t he? Chris’s gaze shot up rapidly. “Yes. Good. We’ll try that,” he said quickly, peeling himself off the glass of the mirror and striding purposefully back to the center of the room.  
  
Darren blinked curiously at the empty space Chris left behind. After a moment, he felt a tiny smile creep to the side of his mouth as he shifted back into place, and started the music up again. Something about the movement and the beat seemed to sink in a little better this time, and they made it all the way through the routine to the point where Blaine was supposed to pin Kurt in against a car (or in this case, the wall). Chris side-stepped Darren as he moved in, and gave him a weak smile. “That was better, that one felt - much better.”  
  
Darren nodded cautiously, eyes narrowing a little. “That was awesome,” he agreed. “You’ve got the slide and double step down, very smooth.”  
  
“Oh yeah,” Chris laughed under his breath, finding his water bottle again. “I’m practically Fred Astaire.”  
  
“Oh god, does that make me Ginger?” Darren asked mockingly.  
  
Chris quirked an eyebrow. “You’re a lot more Gene than Ginger.”  
  
Darren propped himself on both elbows on the side-table. “Ooh, Gene Kelly. I like that.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head,” Chris teased.  
  
“Don’t worry, any illusions of actual skill will get shot to hell tomorrow. I’m bound to fall on my ass a few times. Or two-step into a Lexus,”  
  
“ _Again_ ,” Chris added with a blank expression, and watched as his friend swayed with laugher.  
  
After a moment of quiet, Darren’s eyes fixed on Chris again, shining brightly in the sunlight streaming down from the high windows. “You ready?”  
  
Chris nodded, screwing the cap back on his bottle and dropping it on the table.  
  
As they moved back into place, he heard Darren say something behind him that he didn’t quite catch - and turned to find him pulling off his now thoroughly soaked-through t-shirt.  
  
Chris froze, stunned as Darren threw the shirt across the room and toed out of his shoes and socks. He tried not to notice the way Darren's hipbones practically formed an arrow pointing downwards.  
  
Darren rolled his shoulders, lining himself up to start the routine before he glanced over at Chris. “You're hot.”  
  
Chris tried not to choke on his own tongue. “Wh-What?”  
  
Darren pointed to Chris’s chest. “It’s just me in here, man, you may as well be comfortable.”  
  
Swallowing hard, Chris glanced down at his own sweat-soaked shirt. He hadn’t noticed, but it certainly left very little to the imagination, showing every little line of his chest in perfect detail. _Well… crap._  
  
“I’m fine,” Chris shrugged, his heart beating a little too fast as he picked the fabric away from his skin in vain. “I’ll be fine.”  
  
Darren shook his head slightly. “Alright, just don’t pass out on me, dude, I kinda need you.”  
  
Chris smiled and nodded, and it wasn’t until they’d begun the routine over that he realised it was kind of a strange thing to say.  
  
By the time they’d reached the bridge of the song and he’d found the wall again, Darren was in front of him and entirely too close. Chris’s knees locked, and he couldn’t keep his eyes from trailing down. A sharp thrill went through him when he realised he couldn’t move out of the way this time, but out of nowhere Darren stopped, and smiled. “That that was the best one yet, I think we’ve got the timing down.”  
  
Chris’s mouth fell open slightly before his brain kicked in. “Yeah. Yes. Definitely,” he agreed breathlessly.  
  
“So from here,” Darren gestured as he talked through the rest of the scripted scene. “Press in, long meaningful look, then-” he waved his hands and grinned, “making out.”  
  
Chris nodded rapidly, trying to form words and keep his eyes up.  
  
Darren wandered over to his water bottle, taking a long drink. “You want to just go with what feels natural? They told me no - face holding, or anything, but other than that I think it’s just up to us.”  
  
“Sure,” Chris agreed, his voice coming out a little higher in pitch than he would’ve liked. Then his brow furrowed. “Wait, no what?”  
  
“It’s instinct, I tend to-” Darren gestured a cupping motion with both hands. “When I’m kissing someone. As you well know," Darren quirked an eyebrow devilishly, and Chris swallowed hard at the memory of a stage kiss when it flashed by his eyelids. Darren shrugged. "But I was told it’d ruin the shot.”  
  
“Oh,” Chris said simply. He still hadn’t moved away from the wall.  
  
“You were practically floating just now, you know,” Darren said with a grin. “Very Astaire.”  
  
Chris laughed nervously.   
  
“I heard somewhere, actually,” Darren said around sips of water. “That there used to be a joke in the business, among the guys who were married to some of women who danced with them - if she comes home floating on a cloud, she was dancing with Fred Astaire.”  
  
“And if she was dancing with Gene Kelly?”  
  
“Covered in bruises,” Darren laughed. “He danced hard.”  
  
“Fitting,” Chris nodded.  
  
“And here I thought I wasn’t being rough enough,” Darren teased, his eyes dark.  
  
Chris’s breath caught, and he watched with a confused glance as Darren shifted back into starting position.  
  
“One more time?” Darren asked without looking back.  
  
Chris nodded. “Yeah,” and pulled himself off the wall.  
  
As the music began again, Chris found himself watching Darren dance. The way his muscles shifted under the skin, the glistening line of sweat across his collarbones and his back. Chris could feel himself moving, but his own body barely registered. Somehow he was gliding through it all effortlessly, easily, sliding in and out of the steps like he was built for it. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away.  
  
There was a rhythm, an understanding, a symmetry between them on the rise and fall of the music. Together they swayed, spinning and side-stepping in a seamless pattern, their eyes locked and lingering.  
  
Chris felt his back hit the wall far too quickly, and Darren had already pressed in, pinning him and staring down long, dark lashes. Chris knew he was breathing too quickly, but he didn’t care.  
  
They waited, and the song rolled on in the stillness as neither of them moved for a long time. Finally, Darren swallowed, and his eyes flicked away. “And then,” he said, his voice breaking a little as he smiled shyly and shrugged. “The kiss.”  
  
“Yes,” Chris breathed.  
  
“Yeah,” Darren nodded, disappointment flickering in his features.  
  
“No, I mean, yes,” Chris said before he could actually register the words that were reaching his mouth.  
  
Darren glanced up. “Yes?”  
  
“Oh my _god_ , just kiss me, you idiot,” Chris growled.   
  
In a rush Darren seized his entire body, slamming him against the glass and crashing their mouths together harshly. Chris could feel the damp heat of skin through the fabric of his shirt, and how Darren’s arms clung to him, curled under both his shoulders tightly, hips pinning him hard against the wall.  
  
It wasn’t just the way Darren’s hands shifted all over him, pressing rough fingertips into his muscles and mapping his chest desperately, it was the fierce and almost violent way he sucked the taste of Chris clean out of his mouth, exploring every part of him over and over. Chris struggled for air, feeling the rush of blood to his hips as Darren shifted against him.   
  
Finally he pulled away, gasping. “Jesus, _fuck_ , Chris.”  
  
Chris tried to regain his breath. “Oh my god,” he moaned, long fingers sliding over Darren’s shoulders helplessly. “I just. What. What was that?”  
  
“I’ve been wanting to do that all fucking day,” Darren rested his temple against Chris’s cheek, eyes drifting closed.   
  
Chris’s heart was pounding, his head still swimming in the heat. He’d never been kissed like that before, so deep he forgot where he was. Nobody had ever touched him like that’s what their hands were made for.  
  
He realised suddenly that he was embarrassingly hard, and his hips were still pinned by Darren’s.   
  
Darren moved again, hands finding Chris’s hipbones and sliding under the fabric of his shirt. “Can I?” he asked softly, and Chris’s chest ached with how heartbreakingly timid his voice sounded. He rolled his head slightly, and nodded so Darren could feel it.  
  
Firm hands swept up his body, lifting the wet fabric up over his head. Chris raised his arms and let Darren peel the shirt off of him, throwing it away without a second glance. Darren’s hands pressed into his abdomen possessively, drawing lines along each curve of skin. He tipped his head against Chris’s shoulder, and gently blew down across the bare chest beneath him.  
  
Chris shuddered violently, feeling the exquisite ripple of cool air wash down his sweat-streaked body. His toes curled under the feeling of Darren’s mouth against his collarbone, sucking lightly on the skin and moving on to his throat.   
  
“God, I missed you,” he said between kisses, hands still sliding over Chris’s skin.  
  
“When?” Chris asked, still dizzy with need as Darren’s mouth found the underside of his jaw.   
  
“When you left,” Darren’s voice was muffled. “For LA. I had to stay in London.”  
  
Firm hips rolled against him, and Chris felt his shoulderblades stutter against the glass as he tried to keep his knees from buckling.   
  
“You’re here now,” Chris said, and Darren’s hands slipped down below the band of his pants. “Oh my g-”  
  
“Yes I am,” Darren smirked, and dragged the thumb of his free hand over a nipple to watch Chris’s body jerk. The low, aching whimper that came out of him sent a hot lick of pleasure right down Darren’s body, and he stroked Chris roughly, watching him slowly come undone.  
  
Chris’s hips were thrusting forward desperately with each stroke, his eyes closed and arms braced against Darren’s frame.   
  
Darren kissed him deeply, exploring him with a deliberate slowness as his pace evened out. He pulled back after a moment, resting their foreheads together and smiling. “What was that about being too rough?”  
  
“I take it back,” Chris moaned. “Oh god, don’t stop.”  
  
With a dirty grin, Darren kissed him again, sucking Chris’s lower lip into his mouth on the draw back. His hands shifted, and Chris whimpered at the loss, his eyes shooting open when he realised Darren was undoing his jeans completely and drawing them down.  
  
Chris felt a thrill go up his spine and his eyes blew wide as Darren sunk down onto his knees. Gently, he sucked a long line down the soft skin under Chris’s belly, and glanced up with a smirk.   
  
“I promise not to leave any bruises.”


	2. Easily Bruised

Darren slid down, ignoring the sharp twinge of pain at the burn the wood sent across his knees. He was too busy pushing his fingers into skin, drawing long lines with his tongue up and down Chris’s thighs and gliding his mouth along the head of his cock teasingly.  
  
Chris squirmed against the mirror, hands fisting at Darren’s hair as he took him completely. He screwed his eyes shut tight, worrying his bottom lip viciously with his teeth as Darren pulled back roughly again and again, making obscene sounds and cupping every angle of him for a better perch to take as much as he could. It was wet, and hot, and incredible, and Chris’s back arched as his hips thrust forward over and over. What Darren lacked in technique he certainly made up for in enthusiasm.   
  
Chris rocked with the motion, groaning brokenly as Darren lightly scraped his teeth across skin, followed by the slip of his tongue. Chris forced his eyes open and looked down, lost in the sight of Darren’s wet, pink mouth sliding over him again and again. And then he looked up, and Chris trembled under the gaze as Darren kept moving, unblinking.  
  
With a slick popping sound he pulled his lips back and let go, pushing his hands up Chris’s belly. “I want to, can- can we-“  
  
“I don’t have anything here,” Chris managed through ragged breaths.  
  
“I do,” Darren grinned, and Chris lifted an eyebrow at him.  
  
He only shrugged in reply, pulling himself back up Chris’s body slowly and tasting skin and sweat along the way every chance he could. “Give me a second.”  
  
Chris rid himself of his jeans and shoes, and stroked hismelf absently as he watched Darren move, the bronze skin of his back still sweat-damp and shimmering under sunbeams as he wandered away. Darren found the jar he needed in the bottom of his bag, and returned quickly, staring through heavy lidded eyes as Chris touched himself, still pressed to the mirror.  
  
“I could watch you do that all day,” he tilted his head appreciatively, eyes gliding up and down Chris’s body as he moved closer.  
  
Chris smirked, and watched as Darren undid his shorts and slid them down his hips, taking his boxers with them. The press of skin on skin as Darren moved up against him sent shocks to every corner of his body, and Chris wondered fantically how much longer he’d be able to hold out.  
  
“I want,” Darren said matter-of-factly, sucking skin into his mouth along Chris’s shoulder, “to fuck you,” he bit down, and clung tightly to Chris’s sides as he felt him cry out, “until you can’t remember your name.”  
  
Chris whimpered, hips shifting forward and grinding down hard on Darren’s thigh. The skin felt hot between his legs, still sweat-slick from dancing. “Ungh,” Chris managed, his head tipping back and hitting the glass.  
  
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Darren pulled him away from the wall bodily and twisted down, bringing them to the floor with an audible crash. Chris felt the hard collision with the floorboards shoot pain up his spine, but he didn’t care - Darren was on top of him, sliding, moving down his body and marking him the entire way with teeth and tongue.  
  
“Oh my god, Darren, I need to-” Chris felt the warning go through him, his body tensing in that perfect way. “Please.”  
  
Darren sucked a nipple into his mouth, fingers gripping his hips and pinning Chris down. “Not yet.”  
  
Chris whimpered again, and felt a rush of relief at the sound of the jar uncapping. He tried to control his breathing, hands resting loosely on Darren’s shoulders to keep him steady.  
  
His body shook as Darren pushed a finger inside, and he focused on relaxing as much as he could against the pressure and the familiar burn. Darren worked him open with long, pressing strokes of his hand, adding fingers as he went and watching with delight as Chris writhed underneath him. “God you’re beautiful when you do that,” Darren breathed, eyes bright and pupils blown. He added a third finger and pushed in a little too quickly, swiping his tongue hungrily over his lip when Chris cried out and arched off the floor. He leaned in and pressed a wet kiss to Chris’s breastbone, moving his fingers in and out all the while and aching at every tiny, broken noise Chris made.  
  
“Darren,” Chris growled. “Please, just.”  
  
Darren smiled down at him. “Patience.”  
  
“Fuck your patience,” Chris spat, hips grinding down onto Darren’s fingers. “Just. Oh my god.”  
  
Darren’s mouth fell open slightly at the breathless, desperate expression on Chris’s face as he slowly rode his fingers, hands now pressed flat to the floorboards for leverage.   
  
Slowly, he pulled his hand away, and Chris huffed out a frustrated, agonized breath as Darren moved down again to kiss his collarbones.   
  
“Enough,” Chris’s hands shot up, gripping both of Darren’s shoulders. Darren jolted under the sudden shift of weight and found himself tumbling over, their positions reversed in an instant. Chris’s hand shot up to cradle Darren’s neck, cushioning the rush of motion and stopping Darren’s head from connecting with the wooden floor.   
  
Startled, Darren blinked up at him, mouth hanging open. Chris had him in a vice grip, hovering just above the ground, supporting his weight with little effort at all. Darren shivered violently at the realisation that Chris was apparently stronger than he was. A lot stronger.  
  
Beads of sweat slid down the pale skin of Chris’s bicep as he deliberately dropped Darren the last few inches to the ground and straddled his hips.  
  
“Ow,” Darren breathed.  
  
“Lesson learned,” Chris’s eyes burned intensely bright as he stared down at him, his expression unwavering. After a moment, Chris shifted forward experimentally, and they both forgot the sudden powerplay and groaned at the sensation that rippled between them.  
  
Chris’s body tipped back, hips sliding forward as he reached around behind himself. He slid his hands lightly over Darren’s thighs before he found the jar. Darren jerked uncontrollably beneath him at the first touch, a long stroke that came unexpectedly as Chris’s liquid-cool fingers slid over his length. Chris watched him, smirking, as he stroked over and over and Darren shifted on the ground, hands searching desperately for anything to hold on to as he lay helpless under Chris’s pinning weight, coming undone.  
  
After a moment Chris lifted himself onto his knees, inching back slowly and glancing down behind himself. Darren held his breath at the feeling, the rush of blood and the pounding ache as he fought for control to stop the thrust of his hips when Chris pressed him inside. Darren’s head dropped to the ground with a loud thump as Chris rolled his hips down, taking him in slowly, eyes closed and head tipped back while he moaned.   
  
They moved together, Darren’s hips thrusting up off the ground slowly at first, then faster, and faster again as Chris rocked above him, riding him in long, rolling motions. Darren shifted to see the studio mirrors behind them, watching himself slide in and out of Chris’s body and feeling the perfect, trembling thrill that shot through him at the sight. Chris leant back on his hands and moved from the hip, fucking himself down again and again on Darren in loud, slapping sounds and crying out when Darren rose to meet him with sharp, desperate thrusts. “Chris. Fuck. Oh god,”  
  
Chris dropped himself down over and over, the pain and the pleasure mixing together as the hands gripping his hips held tighter, bruising pale skin. He rocked harder, reveling in the rush and the burn and the ache. Darren had propped hismself up, but suddenly fell back, elbows cracking against the floorboards along with his head as he called out and came with a final violent thrust upwards. Chris tipped himself forward into the motion, riding out the body beneath him and jerking sharply along with the wake of Darren’s orgasm.  
  
He held still, hips twitching and pounding with how hard he was, how badly he needed to come. He whimpered softly as he moved his hand down over himself, sliding back further still and squeezing down around Darren inside him. The feeling was enough, and he gasped as he came over his fist and onto his stomach, body shaking in the aftermath.  
  
Darren’s head lolled to the side as he watched him, a lazy smile curling the side of his mouth. They sat still for a moment, coming down from the heady rush, before Darren squeezed his thigh.  
  
Chris smiled softly, and leaned in to kiss him, biting at his lip.  
  
“Come here,” Darren said, his voice cracking slightly as his hands pulled on Chris’s thighs. Curious, Chris slid forward on his knees, and watched as Darren propped himself up and pressed his mouth to Chris’s belly, nipping and sucking gently at the sweat and come spread under his fingers. Chris laughed tiredly, eyes drifting closed at the warm sensation. He settled back onto Darren’s chest and curled long, gentle fingers through his hair, stroking at the sides of Darren’s head while he tasted him.  
  
Chris’s head rolled back, eyes fluttering closed at the warmth and the tingle under his skin. Darren’s hands were still clinging to him, still holding him steady and fitting into the curves of his body like they always had, softer now, but just as possessive. Chris focused on the feeling of Darren’s mouth on his skin, and the wonderful, tired bliss settling into his bones.  
  
“That was amazing,” Chris sighed.  
  
Darren made a tiny sound of agreement against his belly, and Chris felt a twinge in his back where he’d hit the floorboards earlier.  
  
He smirked, still twisting curls between his fingers. “What happened to no bruises, by the way?”  
  
He felt Darren laugh lightly against him, and looked down in time to see him press on last, soft kiss to his navel before he glanced up with a grin.  
  
“I lied.”


End file.
